


Romeo and Juliet

by ShakeThatCocktail



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe- Romeo and Juliet, Alternative Universe- Political Parties, Artist Kieren, Balcony Scene, Bodyguard Gary, Both families are wealthy, Fluff, HVF, Human Kieren, Kieren is so Juliet, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Past Drug Use, Political Campaigns, Rallies, Siren, ULA - Freeform, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2260866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakeThatCocktail/pseuds/ShakeThatCocktail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the city of Roarton, a political war is occurring. On one side is the ULA, lead by the Monroe family, a family with members who have PDS and are trying to make the world see that they are not monsters. On the other side is the Walker family- a family of PDS-free members trying to rid the world and political system of 'PDS sufferers' (or 'rotters', behind closed doors).</p><p>It's only typical that members from each side would fall in love with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Romeo and Juliet

**Author's Note:**

> A Romeo and Juliet pairing for In The Flesh? It had to be done.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy and, as always; kudoses, comments and bookmarks welcome :) xxx

Kieren detested going to the rallies the government set up. He detested wearing suits where he had to have a straight tie and have his top button done up. He detested having to stand beside his sister (who looked as equally uncomfortable and bored as him) and their family, listening to his father whip the crowd up into a frenzy with his anti-PDS speeches. Steve Walker and his wife worked long and hard with the rest of their campaign crew on them, normally causing them to miss dinner. Although they tried to make dinner a mandatory family affair, something work related always came up, causing Sue and Steve to leave early and leave Kieren and Jem in a soft silence as they finished their dinner.

To him, Kieren didn't really think being PDS was a bad thing, but he'd learnt to keep his opinion to himself. Yes, it was a bit weird that loved ones had come back after being dead for a year, but as long as they were on their medication, they weren't a threat. Well, in small numbers at least. He and Jem had watched the news reports on PDS extremist groups attacking on public transport. This prompted their parents into restricting their going-out privileges, and was the answer to why Gary, the family bodyguard, had been employed. Kieren knew from research that PDS sufferers were put on strict regimes to make sure they never forgot their medication and when to take it, but this didn't seem to weaken his father's arguments. In honesty, he couldn't wait to leave all the arguments and rallies behind him when he could go and study art in Paris in a year's time.

But until then, he was stuck trying not to sweat under the too-bright stage lights as he watched his father work. One thing he could say for the man was that he worked with vigour and passion, using hand gestures to emphasise his points while his wife looked on proudly. The crowd in front of them was cheering loudly, it all coming to a climax as Steve's speech ended and Gary proceeded to herd the family off the stage, Steve placing a guiding hand of the small of Sue's back. Kieren and Jem followed, doling out half-assed waves to the crowd, as they descended the stairs. A walkway lined with metal barriers lead them a little way towards the car park, where their driver would take them back to their large home. Jem had left Kieren's side to walk with Gary, an enthusiastic look on her face as he talked to her about all the different protocols he ran and the training he'd had. The second youngest Walker had the sneaking suspicion she'd developed a crush on him. Kieren looked out at the copse of trees to the left of the pathway, and squinted his chocolate brown eyes when he though he saw something pale and bulky disappear behind a tree after being still for a second. He knew he should've reported it; it was something sneaky around his family after an important rally, but he kept his mouth shut, looking down all the way he walked to the car.

\\\\\^^^///

Kieran adjusted the strings on his jacket's hood as he stood as far back in the shadows as he could at the Monroe's pro-PDS rally. The crowd was almost 90% PDS-sufferers, but Kieran could spot a good number of live supporters. All of them had a shine in their eyes as they watched Iain Monroe on the platform his own dad had been on the night before. Iain Monroe was a large-bodied man, with thick arms and legs encased in a dark, pinstripe suit. His hair and beard were salt-and-pepper, and his face was filled with deep lines around his eyes, nose and mouth. As he spoke, his thick Irish accent slurred some of his speech, but this did little faze the crowd that'd gathered. To the side and a little behind him stood his youngest son, Patrick, who was all beaming, thin-lipped smiles and slicked-back hair. He, too, was dressed in a dark suit, but was wearing a blue tie, instead of a black one like his father. 

The eldest Monroe son, Simon, was nowhere to be seen. No one knew much of the man, except he didn't want to be associated with his family's political status after he'd committed suicide the year before. If there was something more powerful than a political party with an occasionally overly-enthusiastic following, it was a political party with an occasionally overly-enthusiastic following that had a PDS sufferer in their family. No one has seen him since his father used him to gain votes and forge statements behind his back, which was at the very start of the political war. He hadn't made another public appearance.

The crowd were still going wild at Monroe's words, their pale, unblinking eyes and blue lips giving the air of something from a psycho-horror, and Kieren involuntarily shivered. He was so focused on the rally, that he didn't hear the muted, booted footsteps in the grass behind him.

"You've got nerve showing up here," a heavy, Irish voice said behind him, and Kieren whipped around, ready to run away. A masculine figure pulled itself out of the shadows, a little way behind him, and revealed himself. Kieren swallowed when he saw it was Simon Monroe, his father's opponent's son. He had the same black hair and nose as his father, and if you couldn't see the resemblance between them at first, you would straight away after hearing him speak. He was dressed casually, in an oversized sweater, jeans, boots, and a kagoul. His pale eyes seemed to bore into Kieren, and the boy wanted to look away so badly, but couldn't.

"I thought you didn't want to be a part of your dad's political game," Kieren said, and a pale corner of Simon's lips turned up in a smirk.

"I don't," he replied, simply.

"Then why're you here?"

The older man shrugged. "Just because I don't want to be a part of my dad's game doesn't mean I don't agree with him," he said. Kieren nodded once in agreement. He supposed that statement made sense. "But none of this explains why _you're_ here..." Kieren could hear the question in his accent, something he was suddenly finding he wanted to hear more of. Simon's voice was soft, but deep, and utterly hypnotic.

"Scouting out the competition," he said, quickly, trying to sound as convincing as possible. The man in front of him scoffed.

"I know I've only known you a matter of minutes, but I already know you're a terrible liar," he said, and Keiren furrowed his brow, pink lips pouting slightly. "So why don't you tell me why you're really here?" Simon crossed his arms across his chest and look at him, a twinkle of amusement in his eye.

"I don't need to tell you anything," Kieren said, after a moment. "If I wanted to tell you, I wouldn't have lied to you in the first place."

Simon appeared to ponder on this, lips pursed as he cocked his head to the side. "True," he said, his accent drawing out the vowels and making Kieren's fingertips tingle. "or you could've just lied to me so I would keep you here until you told me the truth...?" Kieren didn't know if it was possible for almost-white eyes to turn dark, but Simon's did. Kieren swallowed heavily, noticing how physically close he and the older man had become throughout their exchange.

"Like I said- I don't need to tell you anything," he repeated, trying to keep his voice steady. Only a little waver was present, and Simon smirked again, eyes leaving Kieren's face to briefly swipe his eyes over his bare neck, and then to the space over his shoulder.

"And like I said- you've got nerve showing up here," he replied, before taking a few steps away and turning. "See you around, Kieren Walker," was all he said as he disappeared back into the shadows.

Kieren was left in the wake of his addicting accent and piercing eyes, the sensations clinging to him as he walked quickly back home when he realised the rally had finished and supporters were walking towards the tree line he was hiding in.

\\\\\^^^///

Simon didn't bother to be quiet when he entered his home after the rally. The security guards at the gate had taken one look at him and let him in, not asking for identification like they usually did. As always, Simon had seen the tiny glint of fear in their eyes, along with a smidgen of awe that comes from looking at someone who had most certainly died and then come back. The guards also knew there wasn't anyone who walked with the same air and presence as Simon Monroe; the same presence of a snake prepared to strike.

"Where've you been?" a voice next to him said, and he turned his face to see his younger brother, Patrick, leaning against the doorway that lead into the dining room. He was still wearing the suit he had on at the rally, but the smile on his face had been replaced by a look of disdain. Their father was nowhere to be seen. Simon shrugged and pouted.

"Out," he replied simply, moving towards the grand, dark wood staircase. Patrick snorted.

"Yeah, you're always out," he muttered. "I remember once you were out completely for over a year." The last bit was a little louder and, to anyone else, that would've been a low blow, a blow that would've made them angry or upset-to-the-point-of-tears. But not Simon, no. He know that what he'd done had had consequences he hadn't seen and left scars- figuratively and literally. He knew what he was doing when he'd pushed the plunger on the fourth syringe containing the A to Z of the Periodic Table, polluting his body to the extent that his blood was already turning black before he'd been in his coffin for more than a week. His brother spoke the truth.

Simon nodded as placed on foot on the first step of the stairs, rolling up the sleeves on his coat and jumper, showing the blackish-blue track marks on the insides of his forearms, the marks stark against his near-translucent skin, knowing full well his brother could see them. "Funny thing, that," he said. "Don't really remember much of what I did that year." He watched his brother's lips draw into a thin line and his eyes grow hard.

"Your girlfriend's upstairs," was all Patrick said, before turning around and stalking off through the dining room. Simon just made his way up the stairs to his room and, as soon as he opened his door, was hit by a wall of giggles, stringy brown hair, and colourful petticoats.

"Well, hello there, beau," Amy Dyer trilled, her arms locked around Simon's neck, her pale lips curled up in a big smile. Simon couldn't help but wrap his arms around her shoulders and pull her close, cradling her to his chest.

"Hello, Amy. What a pleasant surprise to see you here," he replied, and the girl snorted.

"Oh, please! I basically live here!" she replied, wiggling out of his arms and narrowing her eyes at him, scrutinising his face. "What's that look on your face for?" she asked, and Simon looked at her, confused. Look? What look?

"Look?" he asked, and the brunette nodded in earnest, wiggling a finger at his face.

"Yeah, that look that's on your face right now. I haven't seen it before." Simon just blinked at her, trying to keep a blank face. Amy scrutinised his face for a few more moments in silence.

"Are you do-" Simon was cut off by an excited screech and Amy pulling him onto the bed, bouncing up and down beside him like an excited puppy.

"I know that look! I know that look!" she giggled, eyes shining. Simon looked on in alarm. "You've met someone, haven't you?" Amy's voice had suddenly gone hushed, and her eyes took on a look of awe.

"Met someone?" Simon parroted, brain trying to get a grip on what Amy was trying to imply.

"Yeah! You've got this little sparkle in those dead, little beadies that you don't get from anything else," Amy said, tilting her head at an uncomfortable angle so it could rest of Simon's shoulder. "I may be dead, but my woman's instincts aren't," she added, and Simon scoffed, looking down at his interlaced fingers. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sounds came out. He didn't really know what to say about a boy he'd only admired from afar and spent no more than five minutes with. "What're they like?" Amy pressed, and Simon pursed his lips in thought. He couldn't deny it- Kieren Walker was beautiful, with his softly-lined lips, dark brown eyes, and lithe physique. Most of his head had been hidden by the grey fabric of his hood, but Simon knew from watching Steve Walker's rallies from a distance that his hair was a golden colour, like sun rays in the late afternoon. Simon noticed that Kieren didn't look at him with any trace of fear in his eyes. With anyone who Simon was with, he could always see a little tinge of fear, or nervousness, but not Kieren. Surely that must make the boy special? Special to someone like him?

Simon made his best friend melt with two words.

"He's beautiful."

\\\\\^^^///

"Kier! C'mon! We gotta go down for dinner!" Jem yelled through Kieren's bedroom door, knocking on it quickly with her knuckles. No sound came from inside. "Kier!" She was starting to get a little irritated; she hated being ignored. She tried jiggling the doorknob, but the door refused to open. She banged on the wood once more in frustration. "Fine! Get in trouble for not coming down! See if I care!"

Kieren gave himself a small smile as he heard his sister stomp her way away from his room and down the stairs. She had a loud walk; he could hear her from the balcony of his room. He leant back against the pillar behind him and pulled up his knees a little so he could rest his sketchbook on them, holding it tightly so it wouldn't fall over and drop seven feet to the garden below. He was halfway through adding stitches and ridges to the shoulder of his sketch when there were softer knocks at the door, the pattern of them instantly recognisable to that of his mum. He immediately sprang up, crossing his room in long strides to unlock his door.

"Kier, aren't you coming down for dinner?" she asked, tugging at the cuffs on her pink cashmere jumper. "We've got chops."

As much as Kieren liked his father's chops, he placed a hand on his stomach and screwed up his face slightly. "I'm not feelin' so good tonight, so I think I'll just skip," he said, watching his mother's hopeful expression turn into a pout.

"Ok, honey. You just get some rest and I'll bring you up something later." She placed a soft kiss on Kieran's forehead, her son bending down for her so she could reach, and Kieran smiled at the warm pressure.

"Sounds good," Kieran said, before touching his 'aching' stomach again. After another warm smile, he could close the door as his mother retreated down the stairs, her slippers sliding over the carpet. Locking his door once again, he went back onto his balcony, picking up his sketchpad and looking at it while running his fingers back and forth through his hair. A pair of white eyes stared back at him, set in a broad face with a mouth twisted up in a smirk. A few dark strands flopped down onto the slightly wrinkled forehead, but the rest was pushed back and gelled. Kieran gnawed at his bottom lip as he thought about his study, how relaxed his posture was, almost cocky. Kieran wanted to make the sketch's lips move, just to hear the heavy Scottish accent again. It was something that'd dragged his brain through his body to his balls with its weight. He was just about to put his pencil to paper again when he heard a rustling in the garden beneath him. It sounded like leaves rustling and the gravel on the path being shuffled. "Hello?" he called down. No response. A feeling of unease settled into Kieran's skin, and tossing a quick look over his shoulder to his bedroom door, he hefted both legs over the side of his balcony and clung to the ivy next to it. A few uneasy moments later and he'd climbed the seven foot drop to the garden. The framing under the ivy creaked underneath his weight. Quickly moving out of the light spilling onto the patio from inside into the shadows, Kieran stalked slowly towards the source of the noise, head ducked slightly.

"So you heard me then?" a heavy voice said behind him, and Kieran couldn't suppress the vibrations it sent through him. Turning slowly, he caught sight of Simon's pale face as he stood behind one of the tall, clean-cut hedges. He was hiding, but subconsciously. In this light, Simon had a better view of Kieran, a better view of the shadows his long lashes spread across his cheeks, a better view of his lanky build. He looked so slight, so delicate, to Simon's wide build and muscled arms.

"Kinda hard not to," Kieran replied, gaze occasionally flicking back to the house, and he said nothing more. Simon squinted his eyes slightly and cocked his head to the side, assessing Kieran silently. Something was missing.

Curiosity.

"Don't you want to know why I'm here, or how I got here?" he asked, prompted for a better word, and Kieran shook his head violently.

"Right now I don't really care." Was all he said before Simon got the biggest shock of his life as the younger man strode over to him and took his face in his hands, pressing their lips together in an incessant kiss. After a moment of being brain-dead at the sensation of Kieran's soft lips on his cold ones, Simon carefully placed his large hands on the sides of Kieran's head and tipped it back slightly, opening his mouth a little so they could deepen their kiss. Simon felt Kieran's little whimper as vibrations through his lips, and he kissed harder as a result, trying to taste as much of Kieran as he could. He felt Kieran's hands slide from his face to the collar of his coat, fingers twisting into the smooth, waterproof material, tugging him closer, as if the younger man could press himself so close that they would become one being.

Kieran poured out everything into Simon; the sketch on his balcony, the yearning that manifested itself every night while he was asleep that woke him up breathless and feeling warm, the racing heart in his throat from their first meeting. "Didn't know...when I...was going...to see you...again..." he breathed in between kisses, lips starting to sting and lungs burning with the little breaths he was taking irregularly. But the burn was worth it. Simon mumbled something against his lips, but he didn't catch it, so he just returned the kiss it was mumbled through. The men suddenly froze, lips still locked, at the sound of the patio doors opening and two pairs of footsteps.

"I want security doubled around the walls of my home. Two days from now is the final debate, and I don't want any rotters from the ULA going crazy on us and attacking. We don't know what these radicals want to do," Steve Walker said. Kieran pushed Simon away slightly to peer around the corner of the hedge they were behind, only to see his father and Gary walking their way, discussing security and tactics.

"They're coming this way!" Kieran panicked, hushing at Simon. Quickly and quietly, the pair scurried their way over towards the back wall, where Kieran assumed was where Simon got in. There was a public bench on the other side of the high security wall which gave a pretty good leg up if you wanted to get in. Because of his tall frame, Simon only had to stand on his tiptoes and jump a little before he could hook his fingers over the edge of the wall.

"I'm probably not going to see you again for a while," he said, looking morose. Kieran gave him a small smile, still very conscious of how close his father and Gary were to him and a member of the opposition.

"We'll see each other again, don't worry," Kieran said. Simon quickly let go of the wall and pulled Kieran into a brusque, bruising kiss that was all teeth and no tongue. "Go!" the younger had prompted, his hand on the small of Simon's back as he pulled himself up on strong arms and disappeared over the other side. Kieran let out a breath and traced the edges of his lips with his fingertips, still feeling the cold pressure of Simon Monroe. As the sounds of footsteps and voice became even louder and closer, he quickly scuttled his way around the hedges and potted plants until he was back to the patio and beneath the vines.

There, he wondered if he'd ever have a better reason to climb down them other than Simon Monroe.


End file.
